


At the Heart of It All

by VictoriaAGrey



Series: Sine Metu Vive [1]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Timeline, Daryl is so in love it hurts, Grief, Love, M/M, Maggie is my hero so I used her, Merle knows and is a shit about it, Miscommunication, Redemption, Rick has a wry sense of humor, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At heart, Daryl Dixon was a romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Heart of It All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Rickyl loving friend who wanted a fic where Daryl is deeply in love with Rick, told from a POV where we see inside his mind. Follows through the timeline we have through the season four finale.
> 
> Enjoy my idea of what is percolating behind Daryl's seemingly ambivalent mask.

At heart, Daryl Dixon was a romantic.

Nothing so contrived as the silly notions propagated in date night rom-coms, but in the sense that he saw through rose-colored glasses when he desperately wished to see the beauty in something and hold on to it. He had enough awareness of self to recognize this and often wondered how such a trait managed to survive his hellish childhood, tumultuous adolescence, and wayward adulthood. While others might refer to the retaining of his romanticism as a miracle, he believed it to be a curse. It would be so much easier to accept the world as-it-is if he didn't keep holding on to dreams of what the world could be.

Nobody recognized this trait in Daryl, which is probably why it never got beat out of him. It was far too submerged beneath practicality, logistics, and honesty with himself. Daryl knew that the world was ugly, cruel, and cast out those not strong enough to stave off its attacks. The curse of his romanticism was that he still fucking _hoped_ for a better world.

When The Turn (Daryl refused to call it the Apocalypse, if for no other reason than it sounded too melodramatic) happened, the first loss he encountered was that of his father. The sight of his mangled body missing actual _chunks of flesh_ should have been enough to knock those rose-colored glasses off, but then he was propelled by the hope of finding Merle alive. Finding Merle motivated him to keep them both as well-fed and safe as possible. To keep them safe and fed, he stumbled upon the group and hoped to convince Merle that staying with them was a better idea than just stealing their shit.

It was a vicious cycle that would never break. One hope would fuel him until it was fulfilled or something bigger and better came along.

Oddly enough, one aspect of his life that had always gone untouched by his skewed perspective was people. People would inevitably disappoint him and it was lucky that his traitorous mind never saw a reason to pin hopes and dreams to a specific person. Sure, he often hoped Merle would become a better person, but his happiness hardly depended on it happening. As life would have it, he was only allowed until his mid-thirties before his mind saw fit to turn his world upside down.

Rick Grimes was special, but Daryl hardly thought that when he first saw him. His initial assessment of _mildly attractive cop-type_ went out the window and became _the-jackass-who-handcuffed-my-brother-to-a-goddamn-rooftop-in-the-middle-of-fucking-Atlanta_ when it was unveiled that the group who had gone to scavenge for supplies had left him behind. Daryl gave him credit for volunteering to return to Atlanta to help rescue Merle, but it was his damn fault that they had to go back in the first place, so there was only so much that he could do.

Daryl later saw this as the beginning of the end. It started out with small things, such as deferring to Rick’s judgment on issues and easy acceptance of him as the leader of the group. When simple approval had spiraled out of control into something so much more horrifying and encompassing, Daryl couldn't say. All he could say with any amount of certainty was that for the first time in his life, his rose-colored glasses were not only trained on a specific person, but they had turned a curious shade of scarlet.

_Well, that just fucking figures_ , Daryl thought to himself when the revelation hit him. _The first time I fall in love, it’s with a straight cop with a wife and kids. Fuck!_

In retrospect, this revelation didn’t make a big difference in how he interacted with Rick. He respected the hell out of him and accepted, even reveled, in his role as his second-in-command and thoughts of disturbing the status quo were immediately dismissed. Rick never noticed a change. Carol never noticed a change. Nobody did. The only one who knew, the only one who would ever know, was himself and he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything about it.

For starters, he wasn’t gay. Daryl could objectively look at a man and determine if he was attractive or not, but that never equated to sexual desire. Even with Rick there wasn’t necessarily a sexual component, just more of a drive to see him happy and hope that there would be times when he could be the source of that happiness. Physical want for Rick remained a nebulous concept to him, but he supposed that if the opportunity ever arose he would be the last person to object to it.

Slowly this became more of an issue than he had ever anticipated it to become. As time passed and his love blossomed rather than faded away, his insides instigated a battle of wills. While Daryl still looked at sexual impulses towards him as something easily ignored, the desire to simply touch him became overwhelming. This became most evident after a supply run turned disastrous.

_It should have been straightforward enough. Get in, get out. There had been no walkers last time they had come through. They knocked on the glass to attract anything that might have wandered in and waited five minutes, giving ample time for anything to make its presence known. And it still all went to hell._

_“Rick!” Daryl yelled at the top of his lungs as he ran through the pharmacy’s rows of various necessities, killing walkers as he went. “RICK! ANSWER ME!”_

_His shouting was greeted with silence from Rick’s end and that bizarre guttural sound walkers made when they were being drawn towards a new source of food. Logically he should have remained quiet as he ran through the aisles looking for Rick, but now he was getting desperate._

_“Rick, damn it! Say somethin’!”_

_Running towards the back of the store, Daryl spotted a small hallway with three doorways in it. Only one of them was open and he could hear the sounds of walkers inside. If Rick was anywhere to be found in this godforsaken store, he would be in there._

_The sight that welcomed him sent a chill up his spine that his brain somehow cross-wired to be both terrifying and extremely arousing._

_Rick was surrounded, literally surrounded, by walkers trying to rip into his invaluable flesh. He was standing on a small coffee table in what had apparently once functioned as a manager’s office. Rather than looking besieged by the problem in front of him, Rick looked like a well-oiled machine doing its job. Walkers were dropping left and right from the blows he was delivering to their skulls and Daryl was so mesmerized by the sight that he froze for a solid second, taking it all in, before he pounced on the walkers and helped to eliminate them one by one._

_“Jesus,” Rick intoned, out of breath once all of the walkers were taken care of._

_“What the hell, Rick?”_

_“What?”_

_“I was callin’ for ya! I thought you were dead.”_

_“What can I say?” Rick replied with a wry smile. “I was a little preoccupied.”_

_“Whatever.” Daryl said in light of anything better to say as frustration, relief, and arousal all battled for dominance inside him. Up until this point he had never sexually objectified Rick, but in that moment he could not deny that there was anything he wanted more than to feel his skin against his own and to have the pulse in his neck throb beneath his tongue. But he couldn’t do any of that, so he settled for..._

_“Come ‘ere.”_

_Rick walked towards him without protest and allowed Daryl to check him over for scratches and bites. The touching he did was entirely clinical, not once encroaching on sexual, but it was enough to reassure him that Rick was alive, well, and still with him. It was an added bonus that he returned the favor._

After that incident, thoughts concerning Rick often took on an undeniably sexual tone. Such thoughts were often prompted by simple gestures or movements; just the sight of him looking up to the stars with his eyes glazed over, as if he were somewhere else, was enough to elicit thoughts of touching him.

Daryl was man enough to admit he was startled by how far his mind was willing to go in romanticizing Rick. The blue of his eyes was no longer simply blue, but Bombay Sapphire illuminated by the lights built into the mantel it was displayed on in a bar he had once visited in Atlanta. That unruly head of hair was now a crown of curls he wished to run his fingers through. Rather than handsome, Rick was suddenly the epitome of masculine beauty. It would seem that while Daryl appeared and sounded crass, he was really waxing poetic beneath the surface.

For all his romantic thoughts and inclinations, Daryl had all the finesse and game of a five year old with his first crush. Before everything went to shit, if he liked someone he would blunder out something entirely inappropriate and unappealing like “We should fuck” while drunk or kiss them on an impulse. Worst case scenario, he would get slapped and told to go to hell. Best case scenario, he got a good lay out of it. Either way he never ended up in a serious relationship and was tossed away after a few turns in the sheets.

His few attempts at flirting were painful for anyone within a ten foot radius. Flirting was one skill he was never able to pick up on and he gave up hope in managing it after he accepted how socially awkward he was in average, everyday conversations. In a moment of morbid curiosity he actually attempted to flirt with Rick. The results were him choking out a compliment about his hunting skills which caused Rick to laugh and reply that if the hunting were left to him, they would have all died within the first weeks of The Turn. He chalked it up to be one of his few victories at flirting since it earned him a laugh rather than a confused look.

During rare moments when he allowed himself to wonder how he would tell Rick – _if he ever dared_ \- that he loved him, he saw all the words he heard when he looked at him and still knew that he wouldn’t be able to manage a simple “I love you.” It would come out all jumbled and wrong. The only constant would be his look of mortification when he realized what Daryl was trying to tell him. Those fantasies would remain just that, fantasies.

Speaking of fantasies, the sexual fantasies that played around in his head were growing in number. They ranged from frantic, need you now sex...

_Searching administration for various supplies that could come in use, Rick would halt his search to glance through a window overlooking the grounds. The light reflecting off the Bombay Sapphire of his eyes and strong jaw-line would be too much to resist and he would approach him._

_In no way would he be gentle, not wanting him to confuse his intent for one second. He would shove him against the wall and place the first searing kiss against his plush lips. Rick would be startled for a fraction of a second by his advance, but he would then respond with gusto. Rick’s tongue would invade his mouth to taste him for the first time, eliciting a truly undignified groan to escape his throat, but he would be too engrossed in the kiss to care._

_Clothes would become cumbersome, rather than their necessary shields against the world, and they would strip each other of their shirts with as much alacrity as possible when their thoughts were focused on keeping their lips sealed together. First contact of their bare chests sliding together would cause them to gasp into each other’s mouths, fueling a desperation to feel the other’s nakedness against their own._

_They would separate for the fifteen agonizing seconds it would take to strip bare before they would collide again. At first naked touch, they would recognize the foreignness of another cock sliding against their own, but it would be a welcomed difference. Both would begin to move their bodies in tandem in the hopes of driving a truly spectacular orgasm out of the other. Sweat would start to roll down their bodies with their matched exertion and he would be overcome by the need to taste the sweat cascading down Rick’s throat. Leaning in, he would suck gently at the sensitive skin beneath his ear, which would earn him a delicious moan that resounded through their connection on his neck._

_When grinding would no longer be enough, he would wrap his hand around both of their cocks. His hand would begin to move faster as he could feel himself and Rick’s body nearing the finish line. Orgasm would be approaching fast, but he would keep warding it off knowing that he wanted to see Rick’s orgasm tear his sanity to shreds before his own. With one last pull, Rick’s body would still before his entire body bowed under the strain of his release and he would cry out to deities which would never come. The sight would be enough to push him over the edge and the strength of his orgasm would cause the landscape of his mind to blank._

_Coming to, he would realize that his release caused his physical body to collapse and in doing so, it had taken Rick down with it. The coarse carpet would feel harsh against his oversensitive skin and he would realize in a rush what he had just done. For the first time in his life, he would experience fear of what he would see when he opened his eyes. Rick would probably be disgusted, appalled at what he had forced on him and he would have to leave. Best to get it over with quickly, he would think._

_Upon opening his eyes, he would see that Rick was lying next to him still coming down from his bodily high. Both would be covered in sweat and cum, resulting in them both looking thoroughly debauched. Rick’s hair would be transformed into a riot of wet curls and his skin would be gloriously flushed. He would brace himself for the rebuke likely to come, but instead Rick would look over at him, amusement alight in his eyes and he would laugh. On second thought, he would think, this is probably worse. Nobody has ever laughed at my performance before._

_“What?” he would ask defensively._

_“Nothin’.” Rick would say through chuckles. “It’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm quite like that in my life.”_

_Not quite knowing how to respond to that, but feeling pleased nonetheless, he would reply with a simple, “Oh.”_

_A few minutes would pass in silence before Rick would ask, “So, is this just a one off type thang or are you wantin’ to see where this could go?”_

_“You wouldn’t min’ seein’ where this could go?”_

_“If I minded, I wouldn’t ‘ve asked._

_“Sure, ya know, if you want.”_

_“I do. But first, we should probably get dressed and do what we came down ‘ere to do in the first place.”_

_Surprise and joy and would be present in equal parts inside him, but the knowledge that he was forging something potentially stronger than what they already had would be enough to bring him back to the real world with a shy smile on his face._

To the type of sex he had never once encountered in his life.

_The familiar smell of grass and trees would assail his nostrils as he laid his naked body flush with Rick’s. No words would be spoken, but a multitude of sentiments would travel between them as they looked into each other’s eyes. He would gently push aside Rick’s curls so they no longer resided on his forehead, giving him an unobstructed view of his face. Absorbing the symmetry of it would come secondary to knowing that this was the face of the one his mind, body, and soul craved. It was the face of someone truly beautiful._

_Out here in the woods and encased in the arms of the person he loved and who loved him in return, he would no longer feel the desire to run and hide from the more romantic aspects of himself. He could express every romantic thought to flitter through his mind, but he would choose to explore a road as equally untraveled as that one, and simply show him._

_He would press tender, but insistent kisses to his lips and across the planes of his face. Rick’s facial hair would tickle the tip of his nose as he lavished attention to his jaw and neck. The arms woven around him would tighten in delighted response when he started gently sucking love bites into the delicate skin connecting his neck to his shoulders._

_Rick would begin to writhe in earnest when he took a hardening nipple into his unrelenting mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Before continuing his ministrations on its twin, he would blow gently onto the puckered tissue to throw into stark relief the difference between the temperature of his mouth and that of the air._

_Slowly, he would work his way down Rick’s torso until he reached the jutting protrusions of his hip bones. Taking them firmly between his hands, he would squeeze them as much in appreciation as restraint before be lowered his head and followed the path of a vein along the erect cock before him with his tongue at a languid pace._

_The anguished moan that would pierce the air would speak volumes of how far gone the man beneath him was. Sweat will have beaded across every expanse of his exposed flesh and every inch of muscle would vibrate in anticipation of release as he methodically worked his mouth and hands over the most intimate parts of Rick. Watching his breathing pattern grow steadily more erratic and his pleas for mercy devolve in breathy gasps for oxygen, he would recognize the moment Rick was going to come before he himself would._

_He would relish the bitter, salty taste consuming his palate as his beloved trembled and shook in a state of unadulterated ecstasy. Swallowing his cum after coaxing him through his orgasm, he would happily watch Rick struggle through the myriad of layers of consciousness separating him from rational thought. It was a sight to behold and he would savor it as a dehydrated man would the sight of water._

_Once he came to, Rick would flash him a dazzling smile, the one that reached his eyes, which was always his favorite, and wordlessly place him on his back. He would willingly follow his lead to lie upon the soft earth as Rick explored the minutiae of his body like no one else had deigned to before. The self-consciousness that had always bogged him down when seeking bodily pleasures would flee in the face of Rick’s sure hands and adoring gaze._

_Sex before Rick had always been single-minded with a clear goal in mind. Now it took on several meanings, all of which he had always fervently avoided. A flood of emotion would consume him whilst in the throes of passion and he would know that that single moment in time would stay with him until the very end._

_Rick’s hands, his mouth, his body; it would all overwhelm him and before long he would fall over the precipice into a world altering orgasm. It would pulse through him sharp and white and rather than his mind blanking, in his mind’s eye he would see a shattered mirror bouncing a thousand kaleidoscopic colors into the dark recesses of his mind._

_For the first time in his life, he would feel free._

Daryl entertained every fantasy that would crop up in his mind. The world was bleak and dreary and if he couldn’t find solace within himself, what was the point? He especially enjoyed the times when he was alone for a few precious minutes and he could touch himself while he watched the explicit films his brain produced for him. It wasn’t until Rick, quite theatrically, lost his grasp of reality that he saw fit to brush these fantasies aside to focus purely on the feelings that he inspired within him.

The group never noticed, but Rick losing his sanity broke something in Daryl as well. He was a firm believer in the notion of “if you can, you should” and more often than not he was able to find one way or another to help in rectifying a problem. With Rick dancing around with insanity, there was nothing – _nothing_ \- that he could do. All that was in his power to do was take care of Lil Asskicker, watch after Carl, keep everyone on task with jobs that had already been planned out by Rick, and hope that Rick himself would eventually return to the real world. It was torture to watch him come around for short periods of time, to only then run off with no cover into the tombs.

He was well aware of the fact that he was in love with him by this point, but the extent that he felt this love was petrifying. His bones reverberated with it, the blood coursing through his veins sang with it, and the air in his lungs quivered with it. Every last goddamn atom of his being felt how in love he was. It was suffocating.

Leaving with Merle was a perfect cover for the one act of cowardice he would ever commit. Daryl wanted nothing more than to return to the prison after Woodbury, but coming to terms with the full extent of his love for Rick (right after the man had saved his goddamn life from certain death for who knows what time, no less), while in the presence of Rick, was ill-advised at best. Knowing his luck, he would say something not quite platonic and give himself away, which would only serve to make things awkward for everyone.

So he ran.

Merle, the son of a bitch, knew something was wrong. He recognized the internal battle going on inside his baby brother and poked at it rather than tried to help or, better yet, leave it alone. Matters were further exacerbated by Daryl comparing the companionship of his brother to Rick’s. Daryl desperately wanted to turn back to the prison and beg – he was actually willing to beg – them to take him back and his brother in. The maelstrom of emotions churning inside him equated to them getting along for approximately 0% of the time, so it was only natural that he would eventually reach a breaking point.

_The crying baby._

_The scared family._

_Merle trying to steal their supplies._

_“Is that something your Sherriff Rick taught you?”_

_“You and Sherriff Rick are like this now, right?”_

It was all too much. Just as his feelings for Rick were too much, the constant jabs and condescension were too much. Daryl decided then and there to that if he had to be around _too much_ anything, he would prefer to face the _too much_ that was currently ensconced in the prison.

So he ran back.

Calling his and Merle’s return “perfect timing” would be the understatement of a lifetime. He and Merle had run as fast as they could when they heard gunshots ring out, but they had died out by the time they were within sight distance. Breaking through the tree line he feared that all he would see were the cold corpses of his adopted family. What he saw instead was the love of his life about to join the ranks of the walking dead. Before he consciously knew what he was doing, he had already aimed and taken down the walker that was the immediate danger to Rick’s life. After the rest were taken out, Rick acknowledged his return with a nod (when that had become their _thing_ he was never quite able to figure out) and he nodded in return; which, frankly, was the civilest thing he was capable of at the moment.

_He may need time_ , he told himself, _but this shit is getting ridiculous. Roaming around outside the fences ALONE!? SERIOUSLY!? What the fuck! Who the fuck took charge with me gone? I’m not even gone 24 hours and they allow him to escape outside the fences!?  The man is a goddamn danger to himself! It’s one thing for him to be in the tombs, but a complete other for him to be on the outside with no one able to immediately help him if he runs into trouble. Fucking IDIOTS! Lock him in a fucking cell if you have to, but don’t let him fucking roam the outside ALONE!_

Luckily Rick went back without protest after Daryl gave him a look that outwardly said “you go first” and sub-textually screamed “I have no qualms against picking you up and carrying you back kicking and screaming.” His anger seethed under the surface as they ran back into the prison and he had to forcibly submerge it to keep himself from murdering Glenn (the absentee, hotheaded leader of the prison for the first and last time if he could help it) long enough for Merle to try and make some sort of peace. Negotiations were tense and ended with Merle locked in a cell. Daryl was half tempted to laugh that even after the world ended, Merle still ended up in prison.

The months after that flew by in whirlwind of over-protectiveness and love that felt more like a forest fire than an emotion.

_When Rick said he was going on a run, he was the first to say he was going with him._

_When Rick agreed to a meeting with the Governor, he fought him until he agreed to let him go rather than staying behind to keep Merle in check. No fucking way was he going to let him near that snake without his watchful eye on him._

_When Rick decided to go retrieve Andrea in Woodbury, he was the last to put down his weapon in frail treaty in case, God forbid, the guards on the wall opened fire on a newly unarmed Rick._

_When Rick stepped down from leadership and formed the council to govern the prison population so he could cultivate crops, he was the first to support his decision and defend him against those who mocked his choice._

_When it was discovered that Rick was checking his snares outside the fences without his gun or back-up, he called a council meeting for everyone to agree that he was forbidden from leaving the grounds without, at least, his gun._

Rick may not have noticed, but he needed a defender within the talkative walls of the prison. Those of the original, core group still regarded him as the de facto leader, but one who needed to be watched closely for all of his still-exposed, deep cracks. Tyreese and Sasha were skeptical of his stability. The Woodbury people thought of him as a reclusive, fallen leader and the newcomers saw Rick as the “guy who went nuts and decided to plant peas.” It took a lot out of Daryl to not beat the jackass who said that to a pulp. Eventually, word traveled around the prison that if you were going to say anything bad about Rick Grimes, you should probably check over your shoulder a few times unless you wanted to face the wrath of Daryl Dixon and a glare that had, on one memorable occasion, caused someone to cry.

Even in light of the few issues at the prison, Daryl could not recall a time in his life when he had been happier. They had achieved a level of stasis, a calm in the eye of the storm. He was a respected fixture of the council, The Governor was seemingly done for, and with the scaling back of responsibilities, he and Rick were able to test the waters of their relationship outside of the imminent peril it seemed they were always faced with in the months following their claiming of the prison.

Daryl knew it was a hopeless endeavor to pray his love wouldn’t begin to shine through the hard, but thin veneer the world saw. It started with small considerations, like waiting for Rick to sit down and eat before he did and asking his opinion on matters concerning the running of the prison. He, of course, more often than not refused to discuss prison politics, but was warm to all other avenues of conversation. Neither of them were particularly chatty people and preferred silence to small talk, but speaking with Rick was more soothing than grating and hearing his voice triggered feelings of safety and comfort. If Rick knew there were times Daryl started conversations just to hear his voice, he never let on. _Small miracles_ , Daryl would think after opening a line of discussion on a seemingly pointless issue (like how houses were being consumed by the jungle that had once been their front yard) or deliberately targeting a subject Rick favored (such as his gardening).

The biggest change was in how tactile they had become. Daryl had never believed himself to be an especially affectionate person, but whatever perception he had of himself in this regard blew up in his face and fast. He couldn’t begin to remember how often he reached out to grasp an elbow in reassurance or patted a shoulder in a show of camaraderie. The strangest development though was how before each run or leave from the prison, he would reach out and touch Rick’s stomach. When his brain had decided that was an acceptable form of affection he didn’t know. It wasn’t something he had never done before, having done it with hunting buddies or his brother in a gesture of congratulations, but those had been slaps to the chest. No, what he did more closely resembled a light tap or graze and ran the risk of looking downright intimate (not to mention possessive) if his fingers rested a second too long on Rick’s torso.

_“Hey hoss!” Daryl called after he turned off his brother’s motorcycle and began crossing the land separating him from Rick._

_“Daryl,” Rick acknowledged as he stood from tending his tomatoes._

_It was a typical, hot Georgia midmorning and Rick was already sweating and dirtied from performing manual labor in the heat. His black jeans were beginning to fill-out in an almost obscene fashion from the muscles forming because of his farming work and his cream colored button-up shirt was sticking to his well-defined chest. Yanking off his dirty gloves, he began to pull at it, almost as if he was considering taking it off._

_Fucking hell, Daryl thought desperately. Please don’t take it off. Please don’t take it off. For the love of God, please don’t take it off. I will not be held responsible for my actions._

_“Daryl.”_

_“Uh, what?” Daryl recovered with what, he knew, was all the grace of a downed ballerina._

_Rick was now standing in front of him, still tugging at that goddamn button-up, looking as if it was taking all of his willpower not to smirk. He failed. Daryl felt as if he were a kid getting caught sticking his hand into the cookie jar to attempt stealing a lifetime supply of cookies ten minutes before dinner._

_“You were gonna ask me somethin'.”_

_“Yeah, right. Did you need anything? We’re hittin’ up that strip mall a few miles away.”_

_“Nothing that I can think of,” he answered, but then added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Surprise me.”_

_“With what? I ain’t a fuckin’ mind reader. I don’t know what you want.”_

_“Just a thought,” Rick laughed. “Be safe out there.”_

_“Always am,” he replied easily and, before he could turn away, he reached out and tapped his stomach. He knew, logically, that Rick would be firm, but nothing could prepare him for the feel of that sweat drenched button-up and the tight abs beneath. It only occurred to him several, incalculable seconds later that he had kept his hand against him during this entire thought process._

_After quickly pulling his hand away, he chanced looking back up at Rick and he was thankful to see no judgment or scorn, just a soft smile on his face. It was one of his favorites._

_“I’ll get the gate for you,” he said. Rick then grabbed the back of his neck gently and grazed his lips against his temple before walking towards the fences that he, more often than not, went outside of without a gun in his holster. That would need to be fixed soon._

_That day Daryl chose two new button-up shirts (one light blue and the other tan) for Rick to "surprise" him. The knowing, kind smile Maggie cast his way as he put far too much care into picking them told him that his and Rick’s little exchange back at the prison not only didn’t go unnoticed, but that she also knew... something of what he felt. It unsettled him._

_The kiss to his temple stayed on his mind all day._

_Rick’s smile when he thanked him for his new shirts made him feel flustered._

_As he touched himself that night while thinking of Rick dirtying his new shirts and bearing the new knowledge that he now had some idea of what those lips felt like, he knew he was well and truly fucked._

The easy affection and not-so-subtle glances he stole of a dirty Rick Grimes at the end of a work day came abruptly to an end when the prison fell and Rick died. When Rick fired that first, damning shot at The Governor _and his fucking tank_ , the liquid his insides had become at the sight of a nearly beheaded Hershel transformed into acid. The prison was turned to rubble, Hershel, the closest thing he ever had to a father, was dead – _everyone is fucking dead_ -, Rick, the man who cared for his heart even without the knowledge of being its bearer was  - _dear God no_ – dead – _no_ – and gone – _NO!!! FUCK!_

All traces of anything that could lead him to happiness in this no good, fucked up world were decimated. His insides burned and his heart ached with grief so intense he could feel it in the palms of his hands. He was half tempted to cut himself open just to see if he would bleed out the toxic acids churning inside him. Daryl had feared for his life plenty of times before The Turn and subsequently every day after to some extent. After the fall, he felt no such thing.

Because, at that moment in time, he did not care if he lived or died.

There was no way he was going down without a fight, he was a Dixon after all, but whether he lived to see another day or not made no difference to him. He would most likely go out giving Beth a chance at survival and he decided that was an honorable death, albeit most likely a painful one. Daryl cared for her, truly he did, but fucking hell she just _didn’t fucking get it._

As much as the destroyed prison and its death count weighed on his mind, so did his last words to Rick. They were angry words and damn it he had every right to feel enraged! He had banished Carol, one of the handful of people who had ever tried to understand him, without consulting the council _which he fucking refused to be a part of all the fucking time so he wouldn’t have to make leadership decisions like that_! Fuck! He was still upset about it, but God did it hurt to know that Rick died believing he hated him. Daryl didn’t hate him. God he didn’t hate him. Even in that moment of righteous anger at Carol’s banishment he didn’t hate him. He would go to his grave – which was likely to be sooner rather than later since he gave zero fucks about what happened – harboring a love and passion for the man so strong that it now caused him physical pain to think of his name.

Rick died never having known how goddamn much he loved him.

Daryl slogged through his duties in looking after Beth until that drunken catharsis in the backyard of moonshine heaven. Saying Rick’s name aloud - _yeah that was definitely a painful mistake_ – and unburdening himself of the immense guilt he knew was on his shoulders, gave new light to the world, a light at the end of the tunnel. Beth, an angel if he ever encountered one, was as strong emotionally as he was physically. He accepted that he was still likely to go out protecting her because Jesus Christ was she weak, but she reinvigorated an actual desire in him to live to see another day. Maybe they could settle down somewhere, attempt to live again. There was that goddamn hope, his romanticism of the world and life, creeping in again and by damn it he enjoyed the flames that brought him back to life. Beth may have reawakened something in him, but it was Rick who had so long ago let him believe it was okay to feel it.

Then that light was taken away from him in the back of a speeding car five minutes later.

Daryl ran all night after that light, that hope that there was still something good and pure and worth living for in this world. But it was long gone. She was gone. There was nothing left to live for. So Daryl did the only thing he felt he could do. He dropped his crossbow and himself to the ground and waited for death.

When he heard the Claimers approaching him, he didn’t care. When they surrounded him, he didn’t care. But when that son of a bitch Joe tried to touch his crossbow – _the one Rick got stabbed in the process of getting for him_ – something in him snapped. He drew on that bastard for having the audacity to try and take the one last physical reminder he had of Rick and the crazy fucker laughed.

_"Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?"_

Oh, Daryl heard that. He heard that loud and clear. But what other choice did he have but to join them when they were practically chomping at the bit to be the first one to shoot him. If he was going to die, it wasn’t going to be at the hands of these stupid pieces of shit. He knew it was a bad idea as much as he knew that he would live to see the day he regretted joining this group of Merles.

He just didn’t know that the regret would merely be the chaser to the healthy dose of self-loathing that would come before it.

They were hunting a man; a man who was in a small group that had apparently killed one of their own. Considering that they seemed to love killing one of their own, he didn’t see the big problem, unless you included the utter hypocrisy of the notion. He had to stop them from killing these people. That douchebag Lou, or whatever the hell his name was, had most likely deserved what was coming. They were probably hunting good people. Hell, maybe he could save them and leave with them. Take them to Terminus or something.

_“Ten Mississippi, nine Mississippi, eight Mississippi - ”_

_“Joe!”_

_He had to stop this. They were probably good people. Walking into the moonlight to talk to Joe, he finally saw the man with the small group that he was hunting._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_No._

_No fucking way, Daryl’s mind screamed at him as it was falling to pieces. No fucking way. No. That is not my Rick. No. That is not Michonne. That is not Carl in the car. No. Absolutely not. Nope. They’re dead. They’re all dead. My Rick is dead. No._

_“Hold up.”_

_“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl.”_

_“Just hold up.”_

_Oh fuck. Oh fuck, it is him. That’s Michonne. That really is Carl in the car. Oh fuck. No. This is wrong. This is so wrong. No. I was hunting him. I was hunting my heart. No. I was hunting my family. I was hunting the only family I have left. NO! I’ve brought death to them. This is my fault. This is all my fault. NO! I can’t lose them now that I’ve just found them. NO! I have to fix this. I have to give them a chance! NO!!!!_

_“You want blood. I get it. Take it from me, man. C’mon.”_

_My blood in exchange for his, Joe. Please. Jesus Christ, please take me instead of him. Instead of them. They can make a difference in this world. Please. JESUS! Fucking hell! I’m serving my life to you on a silver platter! FUCKING TAKE IT!_

_“See now that right there is a lie. IT’S A LIE!”_

_“Oh, c’mon.”_

_“NO!”_

_Don’t you fucking dare interfere, Rick! Think of something to get yourselves out of this while they beat me to death. Get out of here. Get the fuck out of here! Please know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking know!_

Daryl knew he had a lot of explaining to do. The whole situation was a fucking mess. Rick was in shock and Michonne was tending to a traumatized Carl who was nearly raped and then witnessed his father gut the man. This was all on him. This was his fault. He knew they were bad, but he didn’t know they were fucking serial killing rapists. Daryl had never felt so disgusted with himself in his life. Rick would never forgive him. Rick _should_ never forgive him.

_“You’re my brother.”_

Human nature was occasionally a concept that escaped him, so how Rick could write off his part in the whole damn thing so easily and then claim him as family was completely beyond him. He wanted Rick to punch him, yell at him, scream at him how wrong he was to get involved with those degenerates. Instead the man offered him salvation without even the price of atonement.

Daryl wanted to cry. It wasn’t a whim that came to him often, but he felt it in spades then. He didn’t deserve to be saved from himself and he sure as the dead are walking did not deserve Rick and his offer of familial ties. It was so much more than he could have ever hoped for from Rick, especially now, but he took it without hesitation. If this man wished to mar his family tree by adding him to it, that was his choice. Daryl would always follow this honorable man’s lead and if this was the direction he wanted to take him, who was he to question it?

Terminus was as much a trap as those damn snares he showed Rick to make during the winter before the prison. Honestly, Daryl was starting to feel as if the world had a personal vendetta against him and keeping his family together and happy. Going into the boxcar behind Rick, he began to wonder if the death he prescribed for himself after losing Beth was going to come courtesy of fucking cannibals.

_“Rick?”_

_Daryl almost laughed at hearing that voice again._

_“You’re here. You’re here.”_

_Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me as much as I thought, Daryl mused. They’re alive. Alive! My family is alive. And we’re altogether again. Yeah, probably not under the best of circumstances, but we are here. We can at least do something!_

_“They’re gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out.”_

_“Find out what?”_

_Jesus fucking hell, of course this man has a plan. He’s gonna lead us out of this. With Rick here, we’re gonna get out of this. Maybe the whole plan isn’t there yet, but he’s got this. He sounds so fucking sure of himself, too. He hasn’t sounded like that in so long. It works for him and damn did I miss it. This is the man that found us the prison; made it a home. This is the man I fell in love with._

_They are so fucked._

_“They’re screwing with the wrong people.”_

~~~

“Absolutely not.”

“We have to.”

“No.”

“Will you fuckin’ shut up and listen to me!”

“What did you just say to me?”

“I – listen! There’s no other way. There’s too many.”

“We are NOT separating, Daryl!”

Daryl is getting sick and fucking tired of having the same argument. They’ve been at this for five minutes already and Rick is refusing to listen to him. The hospital they have broken into for supplies is now swarming with walkers because some numbnuts up the block decided to take out a few walkers with guns that, into the previous relative silence of the area, sounded like cannon fire. The herd that was now covering the area seemed to come out of nowhere and before he or Rick could get the stuff they needed, it was too late to make an easy escape.

The plan was simple. Daryl goes to the roof and draws the walkers away from an exit with a distraction, such as a few Molotov cocktails, while Rick gets out with the supplies. Rick is currently not fond of the idea of separating and what Daryl’s odds of survival are once he gets out and leaves him alone.

“You have to let me do this.”

“I don’t have to let you do anything.”

“You can’t stop me,” and with that final pronouncement, Daryl makes a break for the door. Rick, apparently prepared for such an eventuality, lunges for his arm and tweaks it enough to throw his balance off. Taking advantage of this, he pushes him into a wall where Daryl finds himself pinned by an absolutely incensed Rick.

He really shouldn’t be turned on right now.

“Lemme go!”

“What! So you can go off on your suicide mission!?” Rick growls mere inches from his face.

“It’ll work!”

“In getting you killed!”

Daryl is beyond done with Rick not having common sense. “Why won’t you let me save you!?”

Rick blanches as if he’s been slapped and eases off Daryl; which is probably a good thing considering he wouldn’t be incredibly thrilled by what’s happening in his jeans right now. The space he puts between them, however, is not exactly substantial. He is still very much invading Daryl’s personal space, which is not to say that Daryl minds much.

_High pressure situation. Life or death. Rick’s furious and pinning me to a wall and I’m turned on. This probably says something about me and it’s probably not something good._

“I don’t think that what we’re arguing about is what we are actually arguing about.”

“What are goin’ on about, Rick?”

“Why are you so determined for me to make it back?”

_Because I need to know you’re alive when I go._

“Because tha group needs ya.”

“So this is about worth? To the group?”

_Not even close._

“Yeah.”

“You’re right.”

_Thank God._

“Ain’t I always?”

“You have your moments,” he smiles. It’s not one of Daryl’s favorites. This one is cold. “Well, what are you waiting for? Grab the bags and get going.”

_... what?_

“What?”

“Grab the bags and get going. I’ll go distract the walkers away from an exit, like you planned.”

_Not a fucking chance._

“No. You need ta make it back.”

“No, actually under your criteria, you do.”

“You’re the leader.”

Rick’s shrug of nonchalance makes Daryl want to punch him in the face. “I’m not the one who provides food. I can’t teach others how to hunt nor do I have the arsenal of survival skills you do that have saved us all countless times. You go back.”

_Motherfucker twisted my words! Why is he doing this?_

“Stop arguin’ with me and grab the bags.”

“Why are we doing this, Daryl?”

“Because yer bein’ a stubborn sonabitch. That’s why.”

The calculating look Rick is giving him is throwing him off his game. The proximity to him is intoxicating and Daryl can’t do anything beyond trying to figure out why Rick’s expression becomes at once determined and _fearful?_ before stoic once more.

“How do you feel about me?”

_...?_

“What?”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” Daryl denies too quickly.

 “I think you do,” Rick challenges as his voice seemingly plunges an octave. “Tell me right now or I swear on all that is holy Daryl Dixon, you won’t get another chance. How do you feel about me?”

_I think you’re a fucking idiot. I think you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met. There are times when I want to kick you and others when I want kiss you senseless. I want you to share your burdens with me so you can have a fair shot at sleeping without worry on your face. I want to know why you wanted to be my friend when no one else did. Your strength gives me strength. It’s been two weeks since you laughed. I cried the night when we didn’t know if the scratch on your back was from a walker or from you scraping it against a tree. I want to taste you. I got you that light blue shirt because it reminded me of your eyes. The sound of your voice makes me feel at home. I sing to Judith because I like to pretend the look you give her is meant for me, too. I get nauseous when I think about how I thought I lost you after the prison. I want to feel you under, over, and inside me. I grabbed that Tolkien book for you because you said he was your favorite author. I taught Carl how to use my crossbow because I knew it would make you smile. If I think about you for too long, my chest starts to hurt. I would die for your kids. I would die for you. I would breathe for you. I think you are beautiful. I hate that you can’t fucking see how much..._

“I love you.”

For the first time in their entire relationship, Daryl has genuinely surprised Rick; interestingly, he has also sufficiently shocked himself. He also knows that they must be wearing identical expressions of shock if Rick’s borderline incredulous raising of his eyebrows is anything to read into.

“And you never said anything?”

“Why would I?”

“Because that means something!”

“Yeah, awkwardness for everybody.”

“No, it means something to me.”

“No, it don’t.”

_That wasn’t fair. Rick would never trample over my feelings. I know that. It’s just wouldn’t mean to him what it means to me._

Daryl is about to apologize when he catches the look of confusion and frustration on Rick’s face. He knows he put it there, but isn’t sure his apology will fix this or why his comment would cause such a strong reaction in the first place. Before he’s able to form the words to turn back time, Rick has cupped his face in his calloused, but gentle hands.

“It does.”

Honest to God, Daryl thought he was prepared for what kissing Rick would be like if it ever happened. He was no virgin and had plenty of experience kissing women, but he had never been in love with any of them. How was he to know that kissing the person he loved so passionately and for so long felt more like a complete collapsing of who he was into something brighter, rather than a simple sliding of lips and tangling of tongues? Rick’s full lips glided over his thin ones with a decidedly delicious ease that Daryl knew he would crave forever after this one taste.

_How does he taste like honey? It’s the end of the world and he tastes like honey. Did I really just moan that loud? Please let that have been him._

The moan was evidently his and before he could spare a thought that he should be embarrassed, Rick growled in his mouth and pushed him back into the wall with a forceful shove of his hips.

_How is he as hard as I am? He can’t want this as much as I do. At least that moan was both of us. Why are we wearing so many clothes?_

His hands then acted of their own accord and pulled open all the snaps of Rick’s black plaid button-up in one pull. As if he suddenly realized as well how awful clothes were at the moment, Rick quickly tore it off and threw it in god knows what direction. It was soon joined by Daryl’s angel wings vest and shirt.

_He’s so warm. Skin smooth and soft. Abs and pecs firm. Back unwielding to my scrambling hands. Do I feel as good to him as he does to me?_

When his center of gravity alters, he feels Rick walking him backwards until the backs of his legs hit the hospital bed in the room. Daryl leans back against it so he is sitting on the edge of the mattress and he startles when he feels Rick’s sure hands sliding up the insides of his thighs.

Before he has a chance to process how this makes him feel, Rick abruptly pulls away from their kiss and drops to his knees.

_Fucking hell, he can’t know what that looks like. I’m not going to last long. This is so embarrassing. I still have my jeans on and I almost came just from the sight of him going to his knees. I need to stop him. His mouth won’t get anywhere near me at this rate. Shouldn’t I be doing this for him? I want to do this to him. I wouldn’t know what I’m doing. Would he hate it? I think I’m hyperventilating. Am I shaking? Should I even come? It might kill me. My orgasm might kill me._

Rick has already rid him of his shoes and socks when he stands again -  _thank God_  - and undoes Daryl's jeans button and zipper. As he’s pulling them down, he freezes.

“You’re not wearing underwear.”

“No.”

_Why would I? They just get in the way._

The look Rick gets could be described as nothing short of predatory. Daryl lifts his hips as Rick quickly reaches for his jeans to rip them off as if they were personally offending him.

_Nervous. I should be nervous. I’m naked and I’m not drunk. Why am I not nervous? Is it possible to be so turned on that you forget to be nervous? He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me. Oh. Oh, that was a bad analogy. Does he?_

The hands sliding up his legs are impossibly hot and the pressure Rick adds as his hands are making their way up his chest indicates he wants him to lay back. Daryl willingly obeys those steady hands as he marvels at the comfortable cold of the sheets in relation to the heat radiating off the man before him. Nails dig pleasantly into his sides before he sees the hungry smirk on Rick’s face as he lowers his head and licks up the length of his cock.

“HOLY FUCK!”

Daryl knows he shouldn’t have screamed that as well as he knows that the movement he made, some strange amalgamation of a flail and a spasm, could have hurt Rick. But the sensation of his tongue on his cock was too much for him to handle with no anchor. It was as if he were cast out to sea without a buoy and told to swim to the no longer visible shore.

Besides, he didn’t want to be the first to feel pleasure. He had wanted him for so long that he was more enchanted by thoughts of pleasuring him or them coming together. So instead of waiting to see what Rick would do, he lurched forward and grabbed the man beneath his arms and tugged him onto the bed and between his legs. Rick immediately caught on to what he was doing and took off his gun belt as Daryl wrenched his jeans and underwear down his legs. He made a move as if he were going to get off the bed to take them off, but Daryl was having none of that. Placing one hand on the small of his back and tangling the other in his curly hair, he pulled Rick’s body flush with his and began to move his body in a way he knew betrayed the depths of his regard.

_Is this sex? It doesn’t feel like sex. It feels as if we’re talking. What am I telling him? I love him. God, I love him. He feels wonderful. Our bodies work so well together. Sex can’t always be like this, can it? I think I’ll die if sex is always like this. I’m going to come. Is he? This doesn’t feel like the usual approach of an orgasm. It feels like I’m about to drown. Am I about to drown? Does he feel like this, too? Air isn’t getting into my lungs. I think I’m being ripped apart. Is Rick ripping me apart? I think he is. My Rick is doing this. My Rick is making me feel this way. My Rick.  Is he mine? I want to be his. His...... Oh.... I....... OH!.............................................................................._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_What is that? A cloth? Why is he wiping a cloth across my chest? Oh. I should’ve thought of that. Did he come? I should check. I hope he did. I did. If that’s what you want to call it. I think a part of me died. Hopefully a bad piece. Something Rick doesn’t like._

“Daryl.”

_Did he just say my name? Probably. I should open my eyes. Maybe I won’t like what I see. It’s safer here. He likes me here. Who knows about out there. Maybe he hates me now. Is he kissing my neck? Yes, he is. He wouldn’t do that if he hated me, right? He’s caressing my face. I love his hands._

“Daryl, I need you to open your eyes for me.”

_He’s concerned. Why is he concerned? I’m fine. Am I? Oh. I’m still trembling. Breathing is still somewhat shallow. Covered in sweat. I’m exhausted. But I’ve never felt better in my life. I don’t think I could ever love him more than I do now. I should open my eyes for him._

Daryl opens his eyes and they instantly connect with Rick’s. He’s relieved that the concern flees as they look at each other, but dread fills him as it’s replaced by amusement and Rick begins to laugh.

“I’m sorry. I just always knew this would happen.”

“What would?”

_Regret sleeping with me. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!_

“Us having sex. It was bound happen.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I knew the second you threw that line of squirrels at me. Such sexual aggression, Daryl,” Rick gasps out through his laughter. His joy is infectious and Daryl finds himself chuckling shyly along. He’s never been comfortable with his own laugh.

_He’s laughing. I made him laugh. I missed that sound._

“Nah, that was actually just aggression.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, he brings his arms lightly around Rick and enjoys the feel of him laughing against his chest. That’s when he notices something.

“You’re naked.”

“Yup. Gotta problem with that?”

“Just an observation.”

“Figure we got one more round in us before we make our way back. I’ve ensured we’re both naked this time.”

_Again!? Son of a bitch IS trying to kill me! Not to mention manipulate me out of my plan with sex._

“We need to get goin’.”

“Give me an hour, Daryl. We’ll see how many are still out there after that, okay?”

“If we delay any longer, they’ll think we’re dead.”

“Sending both of us out and neither coming back? That’s about as likely as us seeing that chupacabra of yours.”

_Why does nobody ever believe my story!? It’s not as if I’m claiming I saw Bigfoot!_

“Hey! I fuckin’ know what I saw!”

“Yeah, you saw a giant bloodsucking dog.”

“Don’t mock me Grimes or I’ll take ya to the spot where I saw it and make ya wait till it shows up.”

“Do you plan on entertaining me during the wait?”

_This man is insatiable. I better get used to the whole dying during sex idea._

“I, well, maybe, but not with anythin’ like we just did. You’re too loud. You’ll scare it.”

“ _I’ll_ scare _it_? Some chupacabra of yours.”

The silence that settles between them is familiar; it was a silence that they are both used to. Neither had been the type to feel they had to be speaking to communicate. Daryl learned a lot about someone through the type of silence they projected. Rick’s silence was calming and self-assured. It wasn’t often he felt anxious to break the silence, especially one as delightful as this, naked with all their warm limbs tangled together, but something was bothering him and he needed to know.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you known?”

Silence. Uncomfortable silence.

“Rick.”

Rick’s hesitation puts Daryl on edge. “...do you remember the day before we made that run to the pharmacy?”

_How could I forget._

“Yeah?”

“I was in the storage room sorting food. The one in the tombs. I overheard. I didn’t mean to.”

Daryl didn’t need him to clarify what he had overheard.

_“Hold up there, Wonder Woman. I’ll get it,” Daryl offered as he walked towards the bookshelf Maggie was currently at battle with._

_“I got it,” she croaked back, sounding too strained to actually mean what she said._

_“You Greenes drive me crazy,” he replied as they began shifting the bookshelf into the position Maggie wanted it. “Tough sonsabitches that ne’er ask fer help.”_

_“Could say the same about you,” Maggie jibbed cheekily. “Should I make you an honorary Greene?”_

_Interesting concept that, Daryl thought. Last names meant so much in the Old World. A last name could condemn you or put you on a pedestal, in both cases it might not have been deserved. These people may not be blood, but they are family. Dixon by blood but what has that ever meant? Pride in a last name that made those who knew of us nervous? Where’s the pride in that? I may be a Dixon but I don’t feel like one. And what does that mean for this New World? Does that make last names obsolete? Part of our names to be discarded because they truly do no longer show who our relations are anymore?_

_“We’re all family ‘round here.”_

_Maggie’s responding smile was so warm that he felt a corner of his mouth pull up. It still never ceased to amaze him that he could make people happy. He never used to be able to do that._

_“You’re right. Does that make me an honorary Dixon?”_

_“Fuck no. I wouldn’t do that ta ya.”_

_“It can’t be too bad if yer a part of it,” she laughed. “Well, Daryl Dixon, honorary Greene Grimes Peletier Rhee and whatever Michonne’s last name is, thank you for your help.”_

_“Yeah. Thank me by just getting me next time you plan on doin’ somethin’ that might break yer back before ya do it.”_

_“Yes, Father.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_Daryl had walked into the hall when Maggie stopped him by calling his name. Turning around to face her where she stood in the library’s doorway, he saw that she looked as if she were deeply contemplating what she was about to say._

_“If I ask you a question, can you hear me out before you get upset?”_

_“I ain’t makin’ any promises.”_

_He wanted to know where she was going with this, although he had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t like it._

_“Are you in love with Carol?”_

_The second the question left her lips, he knew his trepidation was justified. No way was he having this conversation and he turned to leave._

_“No, wait! Please! I’m not saying it to pry, I swear. I’m askin’ it to help.”_

_“Help!?” Daryl asked indignantly. “How is you askin’ that helpin’ anythang?”_

_“Because I know you’re in love.”_

_“You don’t know nothin’!”_

_“I do!” Maggie insisted. She was unwilling to let this conversation go without a fight. “It’s simple psychology and observation. In one of my classes in college, we learned some of the basic signs of someone bein’ in love. One of them is that their language changes. You use more positive words and things like that, which you’ve been doin’. You’re also happier. Smilin’ and laughin’ with us more. Everyone’s noticed that. It’s obvious to me you’re in love. I just want to help you.”_

_Daryl’s concern grew to full-blown panic by the end of her explanation. The thought had never crossed his mind that he had been so obvious. He was alarmed that love, even that which is unspoken, could really change someone in so many ways._

_“I don’t need no help.”_

_“Daryl, please answer the question.”_

_“I love Carol.”_

_“And you love me,” she shot back. Daryl had to give it to her, she was good. Most would have stopped there, but she charged forward with her new ammunition. It seemed his omission buried him rather than set him free. “I asked if you’re in love with her.”_

_“Let it go, Maggie.”_

_“No. Listen, I’m only doin’ this because, like I said, I want to help. I know that if you told her you loved her, she would be with you! It just seems you need a push in that direction’s all. Some reassurance.”_

_“Don’t need reassurance.”_

_“Are you in love with her!?”_

_“NO!”_

_With all due credit, Maggie recovered from the shock pretty quickly. She temporarily looked confused and then, bless her, pressed on with her determination to help Daryl find the confidence to confess his love._

_“But you are in love. I know it.”_

_“Don’t matter.”_

_“But it does! Daryl, you’re a wonderful person and anybody would be lucky to have you love them. I know it sounds terrifying but you have to tell them that - ”_

_“I can’t!”_

_“Yes, you can!”_

_“You don’t get it! I can’t tell hi -,.” Daryl abruptly stopped himself, hoping to anything and everything that he had stopped soon enough._

_Maggie sucked in a breath, as if she were about to power forward with her argument, when she went still and her eyes got slightly bigger. “Oh.”_

_She knows. Fucking hell, she knows, Daryl acknowledged to himself with a fair amount of terror. This is bad. Why couldn’t I just walk away? How was I so obvious? She wouldn’t tell Rick. Would she? No point pretending she doesn’t know. I need to get this back under control._

_“If you say a fuckin’ word Maggie, I swear to God - ”_

_“No! I won’t! I swear. I - ” she had the decency to look flustered. “I swear I just wanted to help. I thought it was plain old nerves keepin’ you from, you know, who you love. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”_

_“I get what you were tryin’ to do, but it won’t help. There’s nothin’ to help. Forget all this happened and we’ll be fine.”_

_“Yeah, of course. Okay. I’m sorry.”_

_Daryl walked away and spent the rest of the day in the guard tower alone until Rick brought him dinner and asked if he wanted to go on a run the next day._

“After I heard that I wasn’t sure it was me, but I knew it might be. I took you on that run because I thought you might want to get away from everybody for awhile. That run confirmed it was me.”

“How?”

“I heard you screamin’ my name. I couldn’t respond, but I heard you. When you came and saw the predicament I was in, you looked scared. You never look scared. Then when you checked me for scratches after, you touched me more than you do the others when you check them. It was obvious after that it was me. And no, not just from the way you were actin’ neither.”

“What else?”

“Maggie. She didn’t say anything but dear God did she give me the stink-eye for a solid week. If I didn’t hear that conversation I woulda thought she was plannin’ my murder.”

_I’m gonna kick that woman after the she gives birth to Lil Badass. Guess I’ll have to settle on giving her a kiss for now._

“Why didn’t you act all weird or nothin’ then?”

“Act weird when?”

“When you, you know, figured it out.”

Rick shifted his body so he was laying flat on top of Daryl and folded his arms one over the other. He then rested his chin on his arms and looked into his eyes, where he silently issued his challenge.

_Figure it out._

_Figure it out? I can’t figure it out! Why else would I ask!? Of all the damn times he chooses to go back to our communication that is unspoken thing, it’s now? Idiot. Why is he doing this? I don’t know! Wouldn’t it be weird knowing your friend was in love with you? Wouldn’t that change everything? It would change everything for me. He didn’t treat me any differently. He still took me on solo runs and hung out with me. Even tolerated me touching him the way I did. Is that just in his nature? Rick is noble. Maybe he just didn’t want to make things awkward. Rick is shaking his head. Why is he shaking his head? Jesus Christ, he can’t know what I’m thinking. Can he? FUCK ME!_

“Later.”

_Okay maybe he can. That’s kind of scary. He’s laughing, but he’s trying to get me back on track. I can do this! I’ve made him laugh three times today. That makes me happy. Rick looks pleased. So, keep going with this train of thought? Small nod, that’s a yes. What else has he done that made me happy? Exist. Breathe. There was that time when he kissed my temple. That made me happy. He thinks of me as family. He brought me that new crossbow. New socks when I mentioned my old ones were wearing through. Sitting with me when I’m on watch and he should be sleeping. Trusts me with his kids. I loved that he ran up and hugged me after I came back from that hunt late. That time when he brushed my hair behind my ears and off my forehead. Aren’t those all things friends do? I’ve never had normal friends, but they do that kind of stuff, right? Head shake, so that’s a no. He knew I loved him not long from the start and he still did all that. It’s not in his character to taunt someone, so he didn’t do all that to lead me on. He did it because he wanted to. He’s starting to smile, keep going. Why would he want to? It’s not stuff normal friends do, so I’m more than a friend? I would have to be. He did things like I did when I realized I was...._

_..... in love with him._

_He’s smiling. It’s my favorite. But that can’t be right._

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

_He’s... not lying. But HOW!? How could he fall in love with someone like me? Anybody would be lucky to have him. Why would someone like him be in love with me!? I’ll never be able to keep him. He’ll realize his mistake sooner or later. Probably sooner. Someone better will come along and –_

“Okay, enough of those thoughts.”

“You don’t know what I was thinkin’.”

“Then why do you look so surprised?”

“I – shut up!”

Rick unfurled his arms, pushing them under Daryl’s back and leaned forward to place chaste kisses on his lips.

“I do love you. Have for awhile,” he whispered against his mouth, sending a shiver up Daryl’s spine.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because of what you just did. And because, even knowing you were in love with me, I didn’t know how you would react. I wanted this to all be on your terms. Didn’t want you to feel pressured or cornered.”

“Maybe I wanna be cornered.”

“Oh, you definitely do. I’m gonna have to remember that.”

As Rick moved over him, he was starting to see the merits of them staying naked for another round. Even knowing that his orgasms with him were potentially lethal. Whatever insane plans he may have had to get them out of this hospital were starting to slip away and Rick’s grand plan of “let’s wait and see what happens” was starting to look better and better. The gentle nip of teeth on his neck let him know Rick had similar thoughts.

_Teeth. His teeth on my neck. I’ve seen what he can do to a man’s neck with his teeth. Everything about this man is deadly. I shouldn’t be turned on by that._

“So tell me,” Rick posed as he started a trail of kisses across his chest. “Was I right? About the squirrel throwing being a show of sexual aggression?”

“Nah, I wasn’t in love with ya then.”

“Sexual desire usually comes before love.”

“Usually.”

Rick froze and jerked his head up with a confused expression in place. Daryl saw the opportunity and shot him a look that he should easily recognize. After all, he did just use it on him.

_Figure it out._

Laughter filled the air when he solved his little puzzle and eventually simmered down to a fond smile. “Well, who’d a thought.”

“What?”

“That you’re a romantic at heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now that you've read 12,000 some odd words of trash, go read Sapien by Myurra for legit Rickyl. It's gorgeous.
> 
> I actually had a lot of fun writing this fic and I'm considering writing a companion piece to this. Rick's perspective on events maybe? Don't know. We'll see.
> 
> Thank you for the read!
> 
> Addendum: I did it! I'm pulling the metaphorical trigger and writing the companion piece with Rick's POV. Your responses have been marvelous and I'm humbled beyond words. I hope you continue on this journey with me.
> 
> My Tumblr account is here, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)!  
> Come at me!!!!


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